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In the School of Magic there are three departments. There’s the Applied Magic Program, where magicians work their knowledge in order to create things of value, from potions to charms to weapons. There's the Wielder Program, where people produce magic using their own self as a medium. People have come out with amazing abilities, like healing or manipulating the air. And then there is the Summoning Program, where people gain familiars and work with them, gaining their trust and respect. This Program is the hardest one of the three. Although the Wielder’s can possess the same powers as a familiar, they do not hold enough magical core required to unleash the power in a strong way. As thus, those with fire spewing abilities are just baby dragons as compared as a familiar from the magical world, capable of exhaling sparks and throwing out fireballs with a flick of the tongue.
Magicians are greedy creatures. They all desire different things, but their thirst is strong nonetheless. Some desire power, other knowledge, others respect. But there is no such thing as an uncompetitive magician. As such, those who do not possess the spark of life are wheedled out early, and by the time they’ve mastered the basics and moved on to higher level training in the School of Magic everyone there exists for one purpose--to get to the top, and nowhere else.
--
‘79,’ the paper reads, and Jungkook sighs, fingers gripping onto the sheet tight enough that small creases begin to appear. He can almost feel his professor’s eyes on him, as if trying to gauge his reaction. The average was a 96, he had said prior to returning their midterms, with only one student falling well below the number.
‘You suck,’ a voice starts in his head, and Jungkook holds back the pout that fights to appear.
‘Hyung, please stop adding salt to my wound. I’m already in a lot of pain knowing that I’m the one person who did really badly.’
‘You’re the one who decided to join this stupid school anyways. I told you to enter the other program, but you had to go and choose the fucking potion making one out of all of them.”
Jungkook sighs. He was a peculiar case. Most people get their partners during the beginning of their training as summoners, but Yoongi-hyung has always been with him ever since he was a child. He doesn’t remember a day without the other’s voice in his head, taunting him and causing others to look at him weirdly whenever he became irritated enough to retort back out loud accidentally. And thus, although unheard of in the world of Magic, Jungkook had become the youngest person ever to gain a familiar--at the early age of 2 years.
He had always been a star student, a favorite of all the teachers enough that other kids didn’t dare to approach him at all, and that had not changed. Even moving up to the School of Magic, Jungkook had received full points in his assessment for the Summoning and Wielding Potential. And yet, he had still chosen to join the one that he had managed to get the least in (although a 94 isn’t very low at all)--the Applied Magic Program. And that had raised question among the higher ups.
It wasn’t that Jungkook was a kid with no ambition--he wouldn’t have gotten far enough without it. Jungkook has a lot of ambition--ambition for stability, that is.
The Summoner’s Program is one just as on the offense as the Wielder’s Program. There’s almost no doubt that they are put in the front of the line during wars and battles, the ones turned to when it comes to an exertion of hard power over society. In contrast, Applied Magic is viewed as a lesser class, with it’s users usually staying in the shadows after their graduation.
But what Jungkook wants the most is to blend into society--not stand out from it. He doesn’t need anyone whispering his name on the streets when they see him, acting one way towards him and then another when his back is turned. He’s had enough of that when he was a kid. His mind flashes back to the high stands and towering walls of the Central Building as the higher ups of government stare down at him. He was just five at the time, eyes still flitting about and too shy to raise his voice. He remembers the sweat on his forehead as old men discussed about him, as people fought over him in the dimness of the room, wide but suffocating, and Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of the images.
‘What are you thinking of?’ Yoongi asks with a slightly concerned tone in his voice, and Jungkook feels himself calming down at the other’s voice.
Yoongi-hyung says that he is of the demon class in his world, crazy powerful and one of the higher beings, but throughout the years Jungkook has come to learn that the other is as warm as he is cold. During the high council meeting, it was Yoongi-hyung who kept spouting out reassuring words and stupid jokes to a fidgeting five year old Jungkook in order to calm his nerves.
When 3 year old Jungkook couldn’t sleep, it was Yoongi who sang him lullabies in a scratchy voice not made for singing at all, in turn causing him to become even more awake but less restless nonetheless.
‘Just because I’m called a demon doesn’t mean I have the heart of one, kid,’ Yoongi had told him the second time Jungkook heard the voice in his head. ‘I like you, so call me hyung, kid,’ he had said, and Jungkook had never doubted him since.
‘Kook,’ the other calls again.
‘Thinking of how to pick up my grade,’ Jungkook replies, and the other scoffs. Yoongi can tell he’s lying, probably, but Jungkook is grateful that he doesn’t say anything about it.
‘Seriously, why didn’t you do summoning? I can finally come out then,’ Yoongi says, and Jungkook refuses.
‘I can’t use you, hyung. You’re too powerful,’ Jungkook thinks, and the other scoffs again. ‘Plus, I like what I’m learning. The professor is nice and it’s interesting to learn about different spells and combinations. I think I can see why magicians thirst for power.’ He can feel the negative waves moving around in his head, and he hopes the other can feel his apology just as much.
‘You’re no fun at all. If only I didn’t like you. I would force myself over and have some fun.’
Jungkook smiles.
--
‘I should never listen to anyone again,’ Jungkook thinks as he tries to bury himself into his seat. Yoongi scoffs at him, something he’s been doing a lot lately.
‘Whatever, this is the most interesting class you’re going to have your whole education. So ignore those bastards that are looking at you and enjoy it. Or, let me out,’ Yoongi finishes with a sly tone, and Jungkook quickly shakes his head, before stopping himself and pretending to stretch his neck to cover for the sudden movement. ‘You fucking suck Jeon Jungkookie.’
‘No, hyung,’ Jungkook replies, and the door opens in time to reveal the instructor walking in, poise relaxed, before the other manages to look over directly in Jungkook’s direction and gives him a nod. Flustered, Jungkook returns the greeting, and to his dismay the glares intensify slightly.
The class he was in was open for all students, yet the section he was taking was usually reserved for the Summoners and Wielders, not the Appliers. ‘Strategic Movement,’ the board read. It was a class that taught you how to move your body in order to avoid attacks and counterattack, extremely useful skills for those going on the offense. As a result, Summoners fought hard to place in, and Wielders are required to take it. Appliers usually file into the waitlist in large numbers and are hastily pushed together into a section of their own.
Jungkook had discussed it with his professor, the one who he was closest to, and the other had patted him on the back and given him encouragement for it. “I was actually a Wielder, you know? But I happened to be more suited to not… hurting things and so I switched out, but the class is still useful, even for us in the shadows. Say one day some situation arises in which front lines are broken through and the enemy reaches the healers. At that time the strategy is always to keep them for last. We must always protect the healers. And thus, we have to be able to protect ourselves,” his professor had said. Then he had seen the confusion on Jungkook’s face and laughed.
“The formation strategies are taught to you all next year, so you won’t know what I’m talking about. For now, I think it’s a good idea to take the class. Why don’t you try it?”
So, it was set. Yoongi had been pestering him to do something fun with his life for once (but to Yoongi, all fun ever meant was risky), and Jungkook himself was a little interested in getting active after being sedentary for half a year. It’s hard to move around when you’re rooted to the ground by chains of textbooks and notes.
His professors urge had been the last spark, and Jungkook decided with a bit of relief that indeed, he would take the class.
Or so he thought, until he realized that the section reserved for the Appliers had already been filled (and overfilled, at that), so there was no way he was going to be able to get into the class. This was fine, he had reasoned to himself. This way was safer, after all, and worse comes to worst, he would go out in the cold and run for a few minutes to keep active.
But Jungkook happened to be a star amongst the officials of the School of Magic. He had found this out when he briefly mentioned his change of plans to his professor, who, in a fit of energy, led him all the way to the Summoning School building and to the faculty room.
Jungkook was embarrassed for life, to say at least, but when they saw his face there was a sudden shift in all of them. He was Jeon Jungkook, the prodigal student who had aced every single placement test offered, and there was no darn way any professor was going to refuse his offer to join their class.
And so he ends up here, taking the place of a student who possibly needed this more than him, loaded with a bunch of expectations and a back full of knives.
The students didn’t know know him, of course--placement scores are usually kept secret and not talked about unless one chose to do so voluntarily. Jungkook, being shy as he was, was short of friends to talk to even in his own program, and kept to his head most of the time, despite his slight advantage in the looks department.
‘You look too innocent to be bad-ass, but too… emo to be cute. You know what I’m saying? It’s okay, Kookie. You’re still a baby to me. You’ll always be cute,’ Yoongi had tried in a failed effort to comfort him, and Jungkook only spent the rest of the night watching stupid cartoon movies to get back at the other (‘Damn it, you’re just trying to piss me off by feeding me this crap,’ Yoongi hissed as Jungkook poured all of his concentration onto the show and his link with his hyung. ‘Get it out of my head, gah, fu--’)
“Class,” the professor starts, and Jungkook blinks in attention. This professor was notoriously good and bad at the same time, so he heard. Good, because he was skilled. Talented, and overqualified for the position he was in right now. Bad, because he was skilled, and so skilled that he smelled fear and caught mistakes as a sport. “For our first class, we are moving out. Everyone onto the field.” And that is all the professor says before he turns and walks out of the room.
Jungkook blinks. Nobody else moves for a second, until all of a sudden one kid nearly slides his feet over to the window and slams the glass open (they are on the fourth floor, mind you) before he proceeds to fly out the opening with a swoosh of the air. Jungkook gapes, but he barely has time to think before the rest of the class rushes out in a similar manner.
Panicking, Jungkook quickly gathers his books (he realizes why some of the others had come in empty-handed their first day. They must have heard about the sudden test--was it a test?-- from previous students, and he feels a little cheated). As he speeds down the stairs, his feet kick up a little wind and he begins to move faster.
“Hyung,” he breathes out, and he can feel the other shrugging in his own world.
‘You don’t use me. It’s boring. If I can’t come out you can at least learn to use my abilities to your advantage.’
‘But I don’t want to have to rely on you forever, hyung--’
‘Don’t bullshit, Jungkook. Like it or not, I’m contracted to you. I’m with you forever, or until you die or some shit. You’re supposed to use me, that’s how it goes. It’s not cheating. The people jumping out the window have been doing that already.’
Jungkook doesn’t have time to react. His feet are already bringing him to the first floor, and in no time he is out the building and approaching the open space. The professor is still nowhere in sight. Which means he must’ve managed to pass. Great.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Jungkook thinks. Surprisingly, the fatigue does not come to him. All he feels remnant of the run is a couple of beads of sweat underneath his fringe, and he wipes them off with the sleeve of his shirt.
‘I’m always right,’ says, and if Jungkook could see him he’s say the other is preening.
He’s only ever seen his hyung once in his life. Only once, when he was very little through teary eyes and a snotty nose. It had been a shitty day, he remembers (he was ten at the time, old enough to assert that he was growing and independent but young enough that he truly was a kid at heart--then again, that hasn’t changed much in the past six years), but he had just gotten a test back from his teacher that day. She had smiled with sad eyes as she informed him of how he shifted his answers one place over and as a result had received a 5 instead of the 98 he had deserved (three of the points were pity points for getting his name down at least. That was the only screw up in school he had ever made), and he had come home to find that his parents were out on a sudden job and left someone to take care of him. But there was no one at home, and all that was left on the table was an unlit cake too big for one ten year old Jungkook to eat.
It was his birthday, and Jungkook had tried the hardest to not let sadness take him over. He spent his time talking to Yoongi about school and relishing in the fact that the other didn’t know how to do simple algebra to save his life (‘Why do you even have to learn that, Kook? That’s useless stuff’ the other had told him) and slowly starting to feel better about the day when he heard the door open.
Not thinking too much about it, he assumed the mentioned watcher had finally received the call and came over, and when he went down the stairs of the eerily dark house and called out, there was no sound.
He felt a wind behind his head, and turned around to see the fuzzy vision of an accelerating knife lunged at him before something lurched him back.
What he remembered after that was a little fuzzy, but he remembered coming to reality with a cold touch on his forehead, trying to shake him awake as gently as possible. He’s never seen him before, but his heart just knew. “Jungkook,” the other breathed in relief, and he knew for sure.
Yoongi-hyung was… a hyung, he would say. And other than his hands, which were cold as ice, his eyes were warm and his face, a little sleepy and soft, was older and wiser than Jungkook would’ve liked to admit.
He saw the mess on the floor, the knife stuck into a shattered mirror on the bathroom wall, and he realized that he nearly died. Yoongi-hyung had saved his life.
It was Jeon Jungkook’s tenth year birthday, and he had cried his eyes out from a plethora of emotions. He had faced mistake, failure, death, and revelation all in the same day, and he cried his hardest, buried into the arms of his hyung.
The next day, his parents came back and found a black crater dug into the earth, spreading far and wide down the street. No destruction was done to anything other than dirt, luckily, and they stepped into a fresh, clean house speaking to Jungkook of a mysterious magical meteor that must have fallen at night.
Jungkook lied and said he didn’t hear of anything, but the burnt hole in the Earth felt too familiar to reject. He’s never let Yoongi out since then.
The other has taken it surprisingly well so far, and Jungkook is sort of happy that his hyung is so lazy sometimes that he doesn’t mind the lack of action. He’s been getting more restless these days, though, and although he jokes about it in good nature, Jungkook isn’t sure when the time will come that his words are no longer just a slip of the tongue.
‘You think too much,’ his hyung tells him, bringing his back, and Jungkook is about to reply when Yoongi tells him to focus. ‘Someone’s about to approach you, and I don’t think they’re coming with nice intentions. Be on guard, Jungkook,’ he says, and that’s all Jungkook needs to hear before he spins around with a nervous knot in his stomach.
There are two of his classmates, one with a smirk, one with a snarl. True enough, they don’t look like they want to be friends. Jungkook stands his ground, because he knows it’s a sign of weakness to shrivel up, but his fingers still tremble slightly.
‘I’ve got you,’ Yoongi says, and he relaxes just a bit when he feels a small surge of energy in him.
“Hey Applier, what’s up. So cute, just like an apple,” one of them says, snickering at his own joke.
‘Laaame, I could do better. Hey, go tell him his hair looks like he accidentally sprayed cooking oil on it and then had no time to wash it so he had to use it as cheap gel,’ Yoongi replies. Jungkook tenses, biting the inside of his lip to stop the chuckle.
‘Stop hyung, I’m going to laugh and accidentally piss them off,’ he thinks.
‘If you want I can make them piss themselves,’ the other retorts.
“Is there anything you need from me?” Jungkook asks instead of replying, ignoring the click of the tongue that Yoongi sends him, and the two share a look before proceeding to burst into laughter.
“Aw, now isn’t he so cute, being formal and all that? Is that how he managed to get into this class too? Sweet talk his way in?”
“I bet he did a little physical favors too, you know, with that cute little face of his,” the other says as he makes to squish Jungkook’s cheek. The hands are slightly sticky from sweat, and it is gross. Jungkook feels a little prickle, and he blanches. Yoongi is getting angry.
‘I’m ready to kill them when you are,’ he tells Jungkook, and the other sniffs.
“Thanks for calling me cute?” he tries, and the guy lets go of him with a strange expression. The other seems baffled, and Jungkook offers a forced smile, but it only seems to rile them up more.
“It seems some of you are forgetting we are in class right now,” a voice says in the distance, and almost immediately all joking stops and bodies turn to face the professor. Since when has he been there? It was as if he was always there, and Jungkook shivers.
They end up learning small tactics of evasion, little movements that allow them to miss impact by a few centimeters or less, and the movement is so precise that one slip up can end up in a bloody nose or a broken ankle. So this is why they need so many healers. They pair up randomly in order to spar and test out their newly learned skills.
Jungkook is not a fighter, and his punches are unplanned and his kicks more street worthy than refined, but he has yet to screw up, something he is both happy for yet expecting. He hasn’t screwed up in a while. And he still feels the energy pulsing in him. It’s becoming a little easy to move with it, and he feels lighter than ever before.
Jungkook’s partner is a girl, a wielder of water, the calmest element out of the series of four. He thinks he finally understands the stereotype that girls are more rational than guys, because although the other looks at him with a sort of disdain, she treats him with enough respect and equality to get through the session peacefully.
“How do you do it,” she mutters, and it is then that Jungkook realizes she is sweating, her movements becoming slightly unsteady and her breathing labored. He, on the other hand, feels like he’s barely moved an inch. No, scratch that. He feels like he’s just sprinted a mile, but is ready for four more.
He’s about to call it a day when he hears an increase in volume on the other side. They both turn around to see a pair arguing. One of them is rough, with the same smirk on his face as the two guys who had approached him prior to the lesson. He doesn’t like him already.
The other one is… small. Er, well, he looks young, that’s for sure. He’s shorter than Jungkook is, that he can tell easily, and his cheeks are round and his lips are jutting out in an angry pout, like a child trying foolishly to challenge the unfair rules of society.
He hears a sigh from next to him, and Jungkook turns his head to see his partner shaking her head. “That guy’s at it again,” she says. Then, she seems to meet his eye, and she gives him a quirk of the lips and looks away. That’s probably the nicest he’ll get for a while, and Jungkook returns his gaze to the situation. Looking around, it seems as if the professor has disappeared off to who knows where again, and Jungkook wonders why he’s so famous when he won’t even take control of his own class. But then he remembers the purpose of the class, and he can’t help but clench his fist. Of course, situations like these were normal, and everyone must’ve expected it to happen. But this is why Jungkook didn’t go into one of the offensive programs for magic. Their idea of learning was brutal.
“I don’t like it,” he whispers as he watches, and by now he notices that a few of the people seem to have recognized the situation arising as well. The environment is hostile, and some watch in distaste while others stare on in glee.
‘Of course you wouldn’t, you baby,’ Yoongi interrupts his trail of thoughts. ‘Calm your mind. You don’t like it, but this is the way the world works. The strong rule over the weak. That kid must know too.’
‘Yes, but it doesn’t mean we have to sit back and watch it happen,’ Jungkook thinks bitterly, and he feels a warmth come from the other.
‘Then you should do something about it,’ Yoongi slurs, and suddenly his presence is very close in Jungkook’s mind. ‘Let me out, Kookie. I won’t kill, I just wanna play.”
‘I can’t,’ Jungkook thinks. ‘I don’t know if I can control you yet, hyung. I don’t want to control you. You’re too strong. You’re my hyung.’
‘You’re not making any sense, Jungkook. I’ve been with you for fourteen fucking years, you should know full well how much I can do, and what I will do. Oh wait, you don’t, because you’ve never let me, you little prick,’ the other hisses, and Jungkook can only shake his head.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
Jungkook looks up from his inner conversation to find the place eerily quiet, and almost everyone looking at him. The guy from before, with the wide cheeks, is as well, eyes a little questioning. He doesn’t seem to be doing so well, judging by the messed up hair and slightly crazed look in his eyes.
‘You dumbshit, you said that out loud,’ Yoongi says, voice frustrated, and Jungkook pales a bit.
“Does the Applier have something to say to me?” the man says, a smile growing on his face, and Jungkook stops himself from taking a step back. He gulps. This man was definitely not a first year, not when his partner, a third year herself, was able to recognize him easily and address him with such distaste. Jungkook opens his mouth.
“I have nothing to say to you, but since you asked I think you should stop.”
‘Fuck yeah, tell him off!’ Yoongi cheers, and Jungkook almost smiles.
“Oh, so the Applier wants to take me on instead?” he asks, stepping forward. Jungkook steps back instinctively. Wrong move, because now the other has completely focused his attention on him. Jungkook supposes he was just looking for a reason to start a fight with him (everyone was), but to do so on the first lesson…
The first punch comes as a surprise, and Jungkook can barely dodge it. He manages to dodge the fist, but the force of the air surrounding it stings as it hits his cheek. A wind wielder, probably. But he proves much more experienced, and one punch follows another without stopping. A few kicks are thrown in, and Jungkook’s relying on Yoongi’s reflexes now, himself looking as if he is thrashing on the field.
What he’s most concerned about, however, is his hyung. The other is restless now, irritation building up in him, and that is never a good sign. ‘Kook, let me out,’ he says.
‘No, hyung,’ Jungkook barely manages to focus his thoughts as he tries to dodge another. None of the hits have landed yet, luckily, or else his momentum will break and he’ll be a goner in the next second.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” he says out loud, and the other laughs. “You can’t… hurt me.”
“Look at him begging for his life!”
But that’s not what he’s doing. He’s begging for the other’s life, not his own, because if anything he has a feeling that if he is hurt in any way, Yoongi will probably come out. Jungkook has tried not to get hurt in the past six years, and he even joined the Applied Magic Program in order to evade such an outcome.
‘Jungkook,’ Yoongi hisses. ‘Jungkook! Let me out! He’s too experienced for you--you haven’t learned to use my power yet. You can’t control yourself enough.’
‘No, hyung, you can’t,’ Jungkook replies, running in the other direction.
‘...Jungkook.’
‘You can’t, hyung,’ he says, but the other tells him to shut up.
‘Pull him to your level,’ Yoongi says, and Jungkook blinks as the other tries to reach him. He’s gaining, fast, small slices of wind propelling his feet forward. ‘Make him tired. Like that girl. You can do it. You’re level headed. You speak like a kid looking down on his elders. It’s easy to get angry at you,’ he says.
Jungkook frowns. ‘Hyung,’ he thinks, a little offended.
Yoongi gives a small laugh. ‘I like you though, kid. You have my fire. That’s why I’m staying.’
And Jungkook doesn’t stop, because he will lose if he does, but as he regains the same calm inside him as he realizes that he still isn’t breathing hard.
“I actually passed the exam for the Wielder Program,” he starts. There’s a small mumble, but he continues nonetheless. “but I’m happy I didn’t join. They said the Summoners were much more level headed. I can see why they say that.”
When he looks back, the chaser is absolutely livid, and suddenly his body becomes full of small openings. And Jungkook stops, because he can see them.
But there is a figure appearing between him and the other, and Jungkook feels Yoongi start. He moves before the other tells him to. ‘Jungkook, jump back!’
A force pushes past him slightly. He must have moved quick enough to evade its main effect, because the other man goes flying into the crowd, body digging into the hard dirt and embedding himself slightly into the ground. The figure looks human, alright, but his eyes are hard.
‘Oh,’ Yoongi hums inside his head. ‘He’s one of my kind.’ And Jungkook stumbles backwards until his body hits another’s hands, and he nearly doubles over in shock. His professor’s grip on his shoulders grows even stronger, however, almost enough to bruise, and Jungkook bites his cheek to keep it from showing.
“I want everyone to take this man as an example,” he says, and Jungkook’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, and he almost doesn’t believe himself. In the back of his mind, Yoongi is laughing, but he keeps distant for once, not letting his thoughts invade Jungkook’s mind completely. “Jungkook,” the professor calls, and Jungkook near squeaks.
“Y-yes, sir?”
“Good job. I expected as much. I’ll remember you,” he says, before focusing back to the class and dismissing them. Jungkook remains, dazed on the floor.
‘..ook. Kook. Jeon.’ Yoongi calls him back slowly, and Jungkook blinks. ‘You should leave before someone tries something else,’ he suggests carefully, and when Jungkook comes back to reality to see the others staring at him with hard gazes. Swallowing, he makes to get away.
And that leaves Jungkook with no friends in this class as well.